Addiction bereavement group born of mother's heartbreak

Donna Andelora, of Wayne, N.J., describes losing her son to a drug overdose after he was in and out of treatment centers. Andelora founded the Lost Angels Bereavement Group which meets in Pompton Lakes at the Carnevale Center every other Thursday.
Jai Agnish/Northjersey.com

Roger and Donna Andelora of Wayne with their son Joey before his fatal overdose.(Photo: Courtesy of Donna Andelora)

Story Highlights

"Once you become addicted to an opiate it steals your soul...It robs you of who you are, and that controls every fiber of your being," said Donna Andelora, whose 22-year-old son died of a heroin overdose.

POMPTON LAKES — With every life that heroin claims, it leaves a trail of sadness and destruction. Loved ones left behind to deal with the loss, the anger and the many questions.

One Wayne woman knows too well the pain that comes from losing a loved one to heroin.

Donna Andelora has lived the nightmare. Heroin, she said, killed her 22-year-old son Joey.

She continues to pick up the pieces of her life. In the meantime, she is channeling her hurt into helping others. Her pain gave birth to the Lost Angels Bereavement Group.

The group, founded six months after Joey's December 2012 death, is open to all who have lost a loved one to heroin or are dealing with a loved one's addiction. It began with three and has grown to 25 attendees at each meeting.

"I needed a place where I could share this, what I'm saying, with other parents, because there are so many more like me out there with this epidemic," she said.

"We share," she said. "We support. And we, a lot of times, have discussions on the discomfort people have being around us and how hard it is, and what people don't really understand what this is and the destruction that it can do."

The group meets at St. Mary's Carnevale Center in Pompton Lakes every other Thursday at 7:30 p.m.

Andelora said his curiosity may have been his downfall. She thinks that's why he experimented with pain pills at a "pill party" as a high school sophomore.

Pain killers for years were quickly prescribed to anyone and everyone, she said.

"If you went and had your wisdom teeth out, or somebody sprained their ankle...You went to the emergency room and there was that chart on the wall that was, 'zero to 10: what's your pain level?' and if you said anything more than zero, the doctors got happy with that pad," Andelora said.

Andelora said some, like her son, became addicted to opiates after trying them just once or twice because they are so addictive. From there, it's a downward spiral and there's not going to be a good ending to it, she said.

“We support. And we, a lot of times, have discussions on the discomfort people have being around us and how hard it is, and what people don't really understand what this is and the destruction that it can do.”

Donna Andelora - founded Lost Angels Bereavement after her 22-year-old son died of heroin overdose

"Once you become addicted to an opiate it steals your soul," she said. "It robs you of who you are, and that controls every fiber of your being."

After pills Joey progressed to heroin and was soon in and out of rehabilitation centers as his life derailed. He went through periods where he was clean, but he always relapsed, said his mother. The relapses became worse and he turned to stealing from his family to pay for his addiction.

"I got home one day and my television was gone off the wall," Andelora said. "Every bit of jewelry, it was gone before we even realized it. That is the grip that this drug has on someone. Nothing is stronger than the pull that this drug has."

He became somebody who I didn't recognize, she said.

"He didn't even recognize himself," Andelora said. "He had that look. He was gone. It was just a glaze in his eyes."

Donna Andelora, a mother who lost her son to a heroin overdose, speaks to high school students in Pompton Lakes, New Jersey.(Photo: Photo courtesy of Carol Helm)

Joey became depressed and was hit with anxiety, she said.

"We were not only battling the use, but he was using to help the depression," she said. "What started out as a recreational curiosity became a lifelong battle. Had he lived it would've been a lifelong battle."

Andelora recalled honest conversations with her son who admitted to his drug addiction and said he hated what had happened to him.

"I hate that I allowed this to happen...I hate that I made that first and second bad choice...and now it's taken over who I am. It's stolen my family," she said he told her.

It's a family disease, she said.

"He hated what he did to us," Andelora said. "He hated what he did to his brother and sister and he fought the battle as hard as he could, and I thought at that point that maybe we have some hope."

He stayed clean for a while, and then he wasn't anymore, she said.

"When you want to use you want to chase that first high," she said. "You want to get back there and you don't care about anything. He had no fear of getting arrested. He had no fear of getting shot in Paterson. He had no fear of overdosing in his car."

Andelora said in one conversation she asked her son if he had any fears.

"Mom, when you want that high there's nothing more important," she remembers him telling her. "It doesn't matter how much I love you or Dad. It doesn't matter if I'm going to die in the next two hours."

Andelora said it's an ugly journey for the addict and the family.

The addiction

"As a parent you don't think you're enabling, but you are because you don't really want to believe that the ugliness is as ugly as it is," she said. "An addict really believes their own lies and they somehow manipulate you into...it just happens."

Joey was in and out of rehabilitation centers in New Jersey and then California after he overdosed while away at the engineering school. The family eventually had him "Marchman Acted" in Florida.

"I called my attorney and said is there a way I can get him court-ordered to do some type of a treatment?" Andelora said. "He's going out of every place. He needs something more than this 28 days 'see ya.' It's not working. He's been using drugs for too long and I need to save his life."

Florida law allowed for him to be involuntarily submitted for long-term treatment, which seemed to really work, Andelora said. He entered the 90-treatment program and lived in a halfway house where he was monitored. He had to appear before a judge once a week and was required to have a job for the 18-month period.

Being around other recovering addicts seemed to help Joey, who also was able to work a part-time job, she said.

"My husband and I went down to visit him," Andelora said. "It was October, 2012. And we got back on the plane after a week's visit and looked at each other and said, 'finally, I think he's going to make it.'"

But that hope was shattered when Joey returned to New Jersey to visit his sick grandmother a few months later for Christmas. He was still in therapy, and after some debate his family agreed to let him come home.

Five days after he returned home Andelora said she found her son on the floor of her bathroom. He had overdosed and died the next day.

"It's a life-long disease," she said. "Once an addict, always an addict. Was it coming back here? Seeing how life had progressed while he was gone, and how much he had missed and what he had done to himself? Was it running into an old friend maybe? I'll never know the answer to that."